


the new americana.

by orphan_account



Category: Red Queen - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: Also big spoilers if you haven't read RQ1. Potential spoilers for RQ2. You've been warned., Gen, This is a drabble sort of thing. Oops.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:11:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6858184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>survival of the richest; the city's ours until the fall.</p>
<p>the scarlet guard rises, red as the dawn, with the lightning girl and the traitor prince as their figureheads, their king and queen, their CHAMPIONS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the new americana.

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i didn't see myself writing anything but after reading this series i can't help but do it.
> 
> damn you victoria aveyard, getting me sucked into your series.

He tries to ignore the signs. The newbloods swept up out of the Red areas, the Silvers who've mysteriously lost a servant. He leaves notes behind, to her, to MARE, trying to get her attention.

Trying to get her back.

Needless to say, it's a futile thing. She's stronger, she's faced the Bowl of Bones, been surrounded by Silvers ready to tear her apart. And she's survived.  
He doesn't know if that was what attracted him to her in the first place, or if it was something completely different, but either way, he's smitten, captivated by her, the way that electricity runs through her body, untamed, unkempt. It's wild, uncontrolled.

It reminds him of his own fire, hot and uncontained, spreading all across Norta, burning everything in its path.  
He's the flame of the North, after all. That nickname doesn't come from nowhere.

There are small broadcasts made by the Scarlet Guard, and he ignores them for the most part -- Elara tells him it's a bad idea to let them still exist, to let them run uncontrolled, but he waves it off. He has his own cards up his sleeve.

That, and if it did come to destroying them, he'd rather have Mare by his side than in a body bag.

The newest video differs from the others, Farley (he remembers the name, the Commander of the Scarlet Guard, the one who took him along the underground trains, the one who let him in, a wolf in sheep's clothing) swapped out for two familiar faces. Faces too familiar for his liking.

Mare and Cal stand on screen, next to each other. It seems as though they've tapped into some sort of Silver channel, this is being broadcast among the High Houses as they speak, he hears them say. No, not them. Cal says it, but Mare stands there, visibly distraught. What's wrong, he wants to ask, to bait her to speak.

He's not sure if the desire to do that is because he wants to mock her, or if it's because he wants to hear her voice again. He'll assume it's the former, for looks, but deep in his heart, he knows the answer is the latter.

Nothing makes him more angered than the fact that the two hold hands on screen, as if they're meant to symbolize a pact between Silver and Red. They're hardly the figureheads for that, he thinks. Cal was just as bad as he was, if not worse.

He knows it's a lie, but he won't admit that he's worse. If only to help his conscience.

The thought would likely make Mare laugh -- how could he, a monster like him that betrayed everyone, the person he loved, his father, his brother, the CAUSE that he said he represented, have a conscience?

He turns off the television as soon as the broadcast is over, and turns away from it.

He'll write another letter, he thinks.

 


End file.
